Become a Homelander and a Marvel superstar

Scott slumped in the driver's seat, his face ashen.

compensation?

Even if you dismantle and sell it like a Gundam, you still wouldn't be able to cover the losses!

Even if he went back now and agreed to Louis's offer to do that risky job, the money he stole probably wouldn't even be enough to repaint the car!

"It's over. I have to go back to San Quentin again... Cathy, Dad will never see you again..."

Just as Scott thought the end of the world had arrived, the gull-wing doors of the sports car slowly rose.

Ah Zu got out of the driver's seat.

The impeccably tailored haute couture suit and the Patek Philippe watch on his wrist exude an aura of wealth.

He walked to the back and glanced at the horribly damaged rear of the car, then slightly pursed his lips.

"Tsk, carbon fiber is a real pain to repair... Oh well, I'll give it to Pietro later."

Azu wasn't angry; after all, the car was no different from a toy to him. Besides, the impact had given him a long-lost feeling of bumps, which was quite novel.

He then strolled leisurely to the rickety bread cart that was still smoking, and gently tapped twice on the driver's side window with his fingers.

"Knock knock".

Scott, sitting in the carriage, shuddered, his face like that of a condemned prisoner awaiting sentencing, and slowly rolled down the window.

He was prepared for a storm.

The other party could be a hot-tempered Wall Street wolf, or a gangster's son with a woman.

The other party would yell at him, humiliate him with the most vicious language, and then call the police to send him back to that cold iron window.

"Hey, buddy." Azu looked at the dejected man in the driver's seat and said in a flat tone, "If you tell me it's because your wife ran off with someone else, I can let it go."

"I'm...I'm so sorry! I'm really, really sorry!"

Scott's voice was trembling. He frantically unbuckled his seatbelt and practically rolled out of the car, standing awkwardly in front of Azu like a child who had done something wrong.

"Sir, I know this sounds like bullshit... but today... I had a really bad day. I lost my job, my ex-wife won't let me see my daughter, my mind is a complete mess..."

Scott waved his hands incoherently, trying to explain, but the more he explained, the more desperate he felt.

"I know this car is expensive...it looks like Batman's weekend ride. I...I don't have any money. I only have a few dollars and a Baskin-Robbins employee discount card in my pocket right now."

Scott lowered his head, his words filled with deep despair.

"You can call the police, sir. Let them arrest me. I just came out of there anyway, they might still have a bed for me..."

Looking at the disheveled man in front of him, Azu suddenly stopped thinking about casually dismissing him.

He narrowed his eyes slightly.

This face... looks familiar.

"Scott Lang?" Azu murmured the name to himself.

Ant-Man 2.

In this city of millions, I just went out for a casual drive and got rear-ended by Ant-Man 2.

This fate is truly wonderful.

"Relax, man, relax."

Azu reached out and gently patted Scott on the shoulder, speaking in a gentle tone.

"Take a deep breath. You look worse than this broken piece of carbon fiber. The most important thing is that no one is hurt, isn't it?"

Scott was stunned, staring in disbelief at the young, wealthy man from the East.

"Sir...aren't you angry?" Scott stammered. "I wrecked your car, and it looks like it's worth at least...tens of millions?"

"Angry?" Azu shrugged nonchalantly. "To be honest, if some stupid donkey that was deliberately causing trouble had hit it, I might have shoved its head into the exhaust pipe."

"But you're not. You're more like... an unlucky guy who just experienced the apocalypse."

"But...your car..." Scott pointed to the dented carbon fiber rear end.

"It's just a small means of transportation," Ah Zu comforted him. "It's not enough to force you to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge."

"But..." Ah Zu changed the subject, "If you break someone else's property, you always have to pay a price. That's the rule for adults, right?"

Scott's heart, which had just begun to relax, instantly jumped into his throat again.

"You just said you had a bad day?"

Scott nodded blankly.

"What a coincidence, I was feeling a bit bored today." Azu glanced at the sky; San Francisco was gradually falling into darkness, and neon lights were beginning to flash on the street corners.

"Okay, since you don't have the money to compensate me for my car, let's find another way to compensate."

Ah Zu pointed to a retro bar with neon lights across the street.

"You buy me a drink, and we'll call it even. How about that?"

Scott's eyes widened; he could hardly believe his ears.

"Want to...have a drink?" Scott pointed to the $30 million supercar, then to the bar. "Are you sure?"

A glass of wine in exchange for tens of millions of dollars in compensation?

If the other person isn't mentally ill, then God finally felt indebted to him and sent an angel to save him.

"What? You don't want to?"

"No! Of course! No problem! I'll treat you to whatever you want to drink! Even if you want Lafite, I'll... I'll try my best to scrape together the money to buy it for you!"

Scott, fearing the other party might change their mind, nodded repeatedly in agreement.

Ah Zu smiled slightly, turned and walked towards the bar: "Let's go, buddy. The car is still here, the insurance company will handle it."

Scott stood there, stunned for a full three seconds, before snapping out of his daze and quickly following after them.

……

The two pushed open the door and entered.

This is a typical American-style underground bar.

Dim lighting, country rock music, and the smell of cheap alcohol, crushed peanuts, and pine bar wood filling the air.

This is clearly not a place for a billionaire like Ah Zu who drives a top-of-the-line sports car.

But Ah Zu seemed very comfortable. He casually sat on a high stool in front of the bar, looking at the faded Captain America poster on the wall with great interest.

Scott sat down awkwardly next to him and ordered two large glasses of the cheapest draft beer from the bartender.

After taking the glass from the bartender, he took a big gulp of beer. The bitter taste of the beer flowed down his throat and into his stomach, which calmed his wildly beating heart a little.

"Thank you... I mean, thank you so much, sir. You have no idea you saved my life today," Scott said, tears streaming down his face.

"My name is Scott. Scott Lang."

"Hello, Scott. You can call me Daniel." Azu casually made up a pseudonym.

"Well then, Scott," Azu raised her glass and clinked it with his. "I heard you say you just came out 'inside'?"

Scott gave a bitter smile. "Yes, San Quentin State Prison. I was there for three years."